


feel again

by deanwinchesterissaved



Series: Drabble boys [5]
Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment
Genre: Attempted Suicide, Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Heavy Angst, I cried writing this so yeah, by request "will make you cry in 1000 words or less" so take care, ghoul friends, its ambiguous so both work, or pre-slash shyan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:13:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22793815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deanwinchesterissaved/pseuds/deanwinchesterissaved
Summary: "I'm gonna turn this on, you can use it to talk to me okay? It-well, you know all this already."Instead of flowers, Shane brings the spirit box to Ryan’s grave and listens to it for hours.--@helloitsvehere
Relationships: Ryan Bergara & Shane Madej, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Series: Drabble boys [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1613827
Comments: 42
Kudos: 207





	feel again

**Author's Note:**

> Please heed the tags and warnings, they are very real. That being said, this was born as a mix of my post-valentines angst and [ Star's ](https://helloitsvehere.tumblr.com/) posts, so yeah, hope you like it!
> 
> Title from First Time by Timeflies, I don't know why but when the song came on in my playlist I just lost it and started to cry, and now we got this.

"Hey Ryan?" Shane's hand grips tighter around the sharp lines of the spirit box, his fingers whitening where they pressed against the hard plastic. Pain spikes down his forearms, but Shane ignores it. 

There's a little breeze going around to combat the scorching California heat, the few clouds are light fluffy masses that are perfect for shape-guessing. An almost flawless day really. 

The cemetery looks so different in the sun. 

"I'm gonna turn this on, you can use it to talk to me okay? It-well, you know all this already." A switch flips, noise blares from the speaker in a roar. "Fuck," Shane winces, almost dropping the takeaway cup, the condensation making the icy sides slick against his fingers.

"I always forget how loud this thing is. I almost hoped--who am I kidding, I always hate the spirit box sessions you make us do." He pauses, a half-formed smile hanging off the edge of his mouth, bracing himself for that smart-alec remark that usually comes, should be coming, any time now. The one thing he can always rely on is Ryan's everlasting urge to win every argument with him. He's had years and years to experiment with that, and the hypothesis has always held true. It shouldn't fail him now. 

But there's only static. 

Shane swallows, he can work with this. 

"You're the one that believed in all this right? It should make it easier for you to-to--" 

He really can. It must be hard enough for Ryan as it is, without him messing up how to speak like a normal human. He's just gotta compose himself for a little bit, let the typical calm wash over him like they're just on another shoot for the show. Yeah, that's it. Just another shoot Madej, get a grip.

But there's no one by his side this time, no one to be calm for. 

"I would have brought your little bear, just for the uh, spiritual connection I guess. God you love the thing way too much Ry." 

And Shane can almost see it, the soft smile the other man always gets when his eyes land on the Paddington plushie, the curve to his eyes when he had demonstrated his affection to the bear with the tenderest hug Shane's ever seen Ryan give. That last time was specially designed to spite him, Shane is sure, the fluttering eyelashes were definitely not necessary. The thought twists his lips, in which direction he's not sure. 

"But your stuff is all at your mom's, and I just didn't want to, you know." Shane blows out a breath, "So I uh, brought you this." His eyes catch on the date etched into the smooth rock, set a week ago, numbers forever blazed into Shane's mind. 

The cup of iced coffee lands on the dirt, and so does Shane, his knees giving out mid-squat. Shane can feel each beat of his heart in his head, the off-kilter rhythm too fast. Breathe Shane, isn't that what the doctor said? No use patching him up again if he keeps messing up his blood pressure. 

Trembling fingers reach out, hesitating, and finally settle on the gently curved stone. It's sturdy, about shoulder thick. Shane squeezes his eyes shut. It's easier this way, almost like talking on the phone. Isn't that what the spirit box is anyway? Some kind of interdimensional game of telephone.

"You know what? You win. If you can say something to me right now, or-or if that's too much, then just give me a sign. Do that and I, Shane Madej will believe in ghosts." 

His eyes are filling beneath closed lids, cool lines rushing down his face in their hurry to reach the ground. His voice is getting thick too, Shane just hopes it won't mess with the signal. 

"Imagine that Ry. The original Shaniac himself, bowing in defeat. Just do that one thing for me 'kay?" 

Closer to the ground now, he can see an insect clambering through the miniature hills, beady little eyes darting around. 

"Hey, it's got your eyes." He jokes, but no one laughs. The spirit box spits out a few seconds from some song station that doesn't make any sense. 

None of it fucking does. 

Anger surges up in him, and he's mad, oh yes. Shane's so fucking mad. He's mad at the overloaded truck, at physics, at the darkness of the night and broken headlights. He's mad at himself for volunteering to drive, at the human instinct to swerve, at perfectly fractured phone screens that won't light up. 

He's mad at his brother, at his family's tears, at the paramedics that pulled him back a second time. 

"I tried to kill myself, how's that?"

His face is still wet, and Shane wipes at it furiously, feeling rough bits of dirt scrape against his cheeks.  "You got something to say about that Ryan? Why don't you come fucking scream at me through the spirit box huh?"

He's yelling, but the graveyard's empty, a place of bygone times. It’s almost fitting for Ryan to be here, with his determined belief in spirits of the past. 

And just like that, the emotion drains out of him, such a hollowness in his chest that Shane digs a hand into the red-spotted bandages, chasing after that pain, the long lines of fire he drew across the insides of his wrists just three days ago. 

At least it was better than the ache in his heart, the one pills can't take away.

"I didn't--none of this is your fault. God you're probably so fucking disappointed in me right now," He breathes, leaning forward until his forehead touched the stone, sun-kissed and warm. He really tries to listen, to pick words out of the nonsensical mix of soundbites the little box spits out. His next breath chokes off in a sob. 

"I couldn't take it Ry. I figured if, if I--"  _ died _ , but he can't say it, because that would make it true. Truer than the beautiful granite stone and the damning carvings on it, the freshly turned earth beneath his knees. " _ went, _ " he settles, "I'd be where you are huh? Makes sense right?"

It might still work, Shane thinks. He believes, for Ryan he will. 

"Maybe, now that I've been close, it'll be easier on you you know? Like, I beat the defender and I'm passing the ball to you buddy. You gotta go the rest of the way and get that point for us yeah?"

The sun bears down fiery hot on his exposed neck, the wind swings by and Shane shakes with it, because the only person who had made this whole damn State amazing is gone. 

"Just say something, please."

“ _ Please. _ ” The spirit box echoes. 

**Author's Note:**

> Typing is surprisingly difficult when you can’t see through your tears ya'll. I rarely read/write death fics because of how much they destroy me, but last night I needed this to sort out my own feelings so.
> 
> Thank you for reading, leave a comment and tell me what you think <3


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